


12 Days of Casmas

by sandean_cas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, 12 Days of Destiel (Supernatural), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Cass is Back in Town, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Deals With Having Human Emotions (Supernatural), Castiel Deserves Better (Supernatural), Castiel Drives the Impala (Supernatural), Castiel Makes Mistakes (Supernatural), Castiel Makes Pie (Supernatural), Castiel Makes Pie For Dean Winchester, Castiel Makes a Deal with The Shadow (Supernatural), Castiel Makes the First Move (Supernatural), Castiel Stays (Supernatural: I'm No Angel), Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Dorks, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel is Not Okay (Supernatural), Castiel is So Done (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Chick-Flick Moments, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Lists, Christmas Presents, Christmas Special, Crack, Dean Winchester Cooks, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean Winchester Makes Assumptions, Dean Winchester Tries, Dean Winchester in Denial, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Episode: s15e01 Back and to the Future, Episode: s15e02 Raising Hell, Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Episode: s15e04 Atomic Monsters, Episode: s15e05 Proverbs 17:3, Eye Sex, First Christmas, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Lists, M/M, Meddling Sam Winchester, Mistletoe, Oblivious Castiel/Dean Winchester, Pining, Post-Episode: s15e05 Proverbs 17:3, Quote: Angels are watching over you. (Supernatural), Quote: Family Don't End With Blood (Supernatural), Quote: I learned that from the pizza man. (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is Loved, Sam Winchester is Not Amused, Sam Winchester is So Done, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Sick Dean Winchester, Smart Dean Winchester, The Impala (Supernatural), This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Washing the Impala (Supernatural), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21467254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandean_cas/pseuds/sandean_cas
Summary: 1.	The colour of his soul2.	His green eyes3.	The way his smile has crow’s feet4.	The way he obsesses over pie and bacon5.	The way he calls me buddy and pats my shoulder – even though I’m an angel6.	His aptitude level7.	‘Baby’ – that car is almost a part of him8.	Flannel9.	His cooking10.	His disposition11.	His taste in music and movies (Especially the mix tape he gave me.)12.	The way he looks at meDean finds a list of all the things Cass doesn’t like about it. It’s getting closer to Christmas so he wants the angel to stick around. The only logical thing to do is to fix everything on the list.Right?Castiel feels lonely and unwanted after leaving the bunker. What has always made him happiest. He reads online that you can make yourself happier by making a list about the things you love. Dean is never supposed to find it.Right?ORMisunderstandings and Christmas fluff galore.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 141
Kudos: 312





	1. On The First Day of Casmas

**On The First Day of Casmas**

Castiel balls his hands into fists.

Dean still couldn’t even look at him. Castiel hates this. He couldn’t help the foolish thought that things could be different, that Dean would push their differences aside in order to work together and maybe, that would give him a chance to get the into the Winchester’s good graces.

It hurt him in ways that he couldn’t describe that Dean still couldn’t get past this.

After the meeting Sam pulls him aside, even as Dean vanishes along with all of the snacks in the bunker. Even the pack of pretzels Castiel had been eyeing.

“Hey Cass.” Says Sam, wearing a slight grin, “You want to something really funny? Downright hilarious actually.”

He nods. At least Sam is trying to welcome him back.

“Dean – he’s taken to calling himself the meat man.” His eyes are alight with mirth as he looks at Castiel, willing him to get the joke.

And he does, a grin appears on his face, “I don’t think he knows what that means.”

Sam raises his hands, “That’s what I said.” He laughs, “Oh, and he bought ghost pepper jerky the other day…. man, he was burning up… and I – I was standing right there, pretending to struggle to open up a water.” Sam slaps the table.

Castiel finds himself easing into the new atmosphere. It’s more like what he’s accustomed to, the Winchesters laughing and joking with him; when they had trusted him to do more than just obey.

His tone is sombre as he continues, “Dean missed you. He never said so, but it was in the little things that he did: like day-drinking on a case, he couldn’t even say your name and he was eating _all the time._” he sighs, “I was really worried. About both of you.” he pauses to look Castiel in the eye, “You never answered my calls or my texts; I still don’t even know why you left.”

“Sam,” he begins, trying to keep his tone neutral, “I appreciate your worry and I meant no harm… but I couldn’t stay here any longer. You have to understand, I though Chuck was gone, that the ghosts were gone… everything was settled and it seemed like the perfect time to – disengage. From a place where I wasn’t needed or wanted any longer. I didn’t answer your calls because I didn’t want to come back; I knew that the second something went wrong, that you’d drag me back and that nothing would change. It would seem that assumption was correct.”

Blowing out a long breath, Sam leans back, “Just because you and Dean had a fight, doesn’t mean that I feel the same way. If you’re fighting with Dean doesn’t mean that you’re fighting with me too.”

“Doesn’t it though? You said nothing even when Dean sent me into hell!” he swallows in an attempt to control his anger. The more human he got, the more his emotions became uncontrollable.

“Dean is my brother.” he says, “But so are you. I was so lost in my shoulder and… Rowena… and the hole in the ground. I just didn’t even notice, and for that I’m sorry. But you didn’t have to leave like that.”

“Thank you Sam.” He feels a weight lift off his shoulders. “I – want to mend things. I want to try, but I don’t think Dean does. Nothing can make up for what I’ve done.”

Sam is silent, contemplating, “Do you know what Dean values most?”

“Family?” his voice is small. _You’re dead to me. _He’d lost the right to call Dean his family.

“And what is family?”

“Someone – someone you trust – give the benefit of the doubt.” Someone you can look at for more than ten seconds.

“Right.” Nods Sam, “Dean hates it when the people that he loves leaves. He hated it when I went to Stanford, when Dad left to kill Azazel and when you leave. Just stay. When he realises you’re not leaving he’ll open up.”

“Okay Sam.” He says, it’s worth a shot as Dean would say, “And you’ll help me?”

“Of course.”

** ...**

  1. The colour of soul
  2. His green eyes
  3. The way his smile has crow’s feet
  4. The way he obsesses over pie and bacon
  5. The way he calls me buddy and pats my shoulder – even though I’m an angel
  6. His aptitude level
  7. ‘Baby’ – that car is almost a part of him
  8. Flannel
  9. His cooking
  10. His disposition
  11. His taste in music and movies (Especially the mix tape he gave me.)
  12. The way he looks at me

The paper falls benignly out of Dean’s slackened grip. It floats slowly to the ground and hits with a thud that sounds way too loud.

He trembles as he looks at it. The words are still visible. He wants to squash it in his fist but he won’t.

They’d just gotten Cass back after all.

If he found out that Dean had invaded his privacy he’d leave all over again.

The list wasn’t titled.

His name wasn’t even on it.

But it was obvious.

It’s a list, detailing everything that Cass hates about him. He wants to sob.

At first he’d hated Cass for letting the first decision made of his own free will be to leave Dean – them. Then he found out that Chuck was still in play, and that end game was Sam killing Dean or vice versa. It was only then that he had been able to say Cass’ name without bitterness, or at all really.

But it obviously hadn’t mattered. He’d thought long and hard. For ways to make it up to his friend. Ways to make him stay. Nothing had seemed good enough.

All good things come to those who wait, he thinks bitterly as he has to prevent himself from stomping on the paper. It’s a nice piece of paper; delicate and patterned. Cass’ handwriting had been impeccable, there was simply no way to misunderstand anything.

The answer had fallen into his lap – or rather, out of Cass’ trench-coat.

He takes a picture of the list.

The same list that tells him everything that Cass hates about him.

The list that will help him convince Cass to stick maybe stick around this time.

…

After taking a few hours to get over himself and the sadness he feels, Dean sets a plan of action. The things near the bottom of the list seem the most fixable.

He tries to think about how he looks at Cass.

Recently it’s been full of animosity but before that it was with relief, happiness. Which one had he been referring to in the list? It seemed best to just not look at him at all. No, that would be kind of impossible given that they’d be working together often. Maybe he’d limit the glances to ten times a day. That sounded reasonable.

Sure, it’d take some time to get used to the rule… to even remember it. Dean knows that him and Cass don’t talk sometimes because they can convey their feelings with just a glance. Maybe his friend would appreciate some more effort, some more words. Words had never been his strong suit, but he’d try.

…

Turns out that trying is harder than he had anticipated. While they’re discussing the whole Chuck fiasco and the fact that Sam and Dean always kill each other, he’s forced to look at the floor for most of the exchange. Cass’ eyes follow him though, and he’d even wasted one of his ten glances for a measley two second peek. All he’d seen was anger though, pure and unadultered.

Urgh. This thing is going to be a bitch.

At the end of their little meeting, they still have no gun, no ideas and no plan. Not even for Lilith.

Damn, he misses Crowley right about now.


	2. On The Second Day of Casmas

Dean takes a deep breath.

Cass hates his mixtape. He can live with that.

But that must mean he cares… somewhat, to even bother to keep it. Well, he had tried to give it back just before he used Dean’s affections to steal the Colt from under his pillow. Fun times. Still, Dean counts that as a win.

It’s movie night now and Sam is constantly pestering him to watching something nice with Cass. The issue pops up every two seconds, and usually Dean would jump at the chance to show Cass a cowboy movie or even a space movie, but now that he knows Cass doesn’t enjoy himself he doesn’t feel as excited anymore. He feels guilty too; he’d never considered asking Cass what genre he liked, if any at all.

Sam keeps asking and asking and it’s all he can do to _not _ look at Cass. Cass, incidentally, doesn’t seem phased by his lack of attention. Nor has he asked Dean about movie night. Dean feels helpless. He’s over here trying his best and Cass doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest. What kind of shit show is he running if he can’t convince one angel to stay with him?

…

Sam drags Cass to Dean’s room and the forces the three of them into Dean’s bed. He winces at the pain his poor memory foam has to endure. He hopes it doesn’t remember _them. _Well, maybe it can remember Cass, Sam has his own bed.

Cass doesn’t have a bed, he realises all of a sudden.

He doesn’t have _things_. Which made it so easy for him to just pick up and leave. He hadn’t planted any roots… which meant, he’d planned on leaving all along. They had probably screwed up so much that he’d resigned himself to babysitting them forever.

Dean’s back feels stiff, he’s hovering on the very edge of the bed, trying not to brush against Cass’ hips. It reminds him of the time he’d barged in on the angel’s meeting with Isham. He was a douche, but, in reality, so is Dean.

“Dean?” Cass’ voice reminds him that they’ve all been staring at the blank TV screen for who knows how long.

“Dude.” Sam snaps, “Just put on one of your cowboy movies, torture us as usual.”

“I uh, I told you Sammy, I don’t feel like movie night right now.” He sulks.

Cass is comfortably at his side, completely immune to Dean’s presence and Sam is as always, completely oblivious.

“Dean, come on! We haven’t done this in so long.”

“Fine.” He snaps, crossing his arms, completely aware that Cass hadn’t even said a word to him or looked at him at all since entering the room.

“Cass wants to see something with us.” Sam pipes up, trying to salvage the atmosphere in the room. He nudges Cass when no reply seems forth coming. “Right Cass?”

“Of course Sam.”

Of course Sam. Dean had never heard such enthusiasm.

“Alright.” He mumbles, “Since Cass wants to see something so much, you take first pick.” He tosses the remote up and Cass fumbles with it for a second.

A former, Netflix-a-holic, the angel quickly finds his way to the movie section and scans each title extensively.

He lands on one, the cartoon version of the Grinch. It looks pretty cringe worthy. He notices Cass’ finger stall ever so slightly before moving down three titles quickly.

“Did you wanna see that one?”

“Uh.”

Dean smiles, “It’s a holiday classic… and uh, if you look close enough, he kinda looks like you when you’re mad.”

Cass turns to him then, hurt written all over his face, “I’m not a green, grumpy creature who steals Christmas presents from little children.”

“He’s just teasing you Cass.” Sam assures, “_Right Dean?”_

Rolling his eyes he nods, mumbling a quick complaint about no one getting his jokes.

…

With the titles rolling, Castiel chances a look at Dean. He hadn’t even been in the mood to watch a Western with them like he usually does. Maybe that habit is reserved for peoples he trusts. His heart sinks a bit. Dean was right though, he understands why Dean compared him to the Grinch and that he wasn’t actually such a bad character.

Maybe Dean had realised that too?

To his credit, Dean had not watched passively or even fallen asleep. He’d laughed and frowned as the movie progressed. That had been the first movie Castiel had ever chosen for movie night and he is more than satisfied that both brothers seemed to enjoy it.

Sam had been supportive in every way. Pressuring Dean into watching the movie, helping him comb his hair and iron his clothes.

As expected, Dean shoos them both out pretty quickly after that, and Sam had teased him for wanting beauty sleep.

…

He waits for Sam in the kitchen.

It’s around one and Dean has been asleep for over two hours. Sam had suggested they meet and discuss how successful their endeavour was in private.

“We really hit it out of the park in there Cass.”

Not that he doesn’t understand the reference, he just doesn’t understand how it’s applicable to their situation. Movie night had been neutral at best. Dean had watched the moive sure, and sat next to him for over an hour, but he’d been almost off the bed, arms tucks in and as far from Castiel as possible without falling off completely.

“He was completely disengaged Sam. He gave up the remote, he doesn’t trust me enough to watch –”

Sam grins, Cheshire wide, “No Cass. He gave you the remote because he cares what _you _want to see. Dean is a remote hog, barely lets me have it, much less for the TV in his room. _And_ we just watched a chick-flick, basically. Actually, Dean considers those kid cartoons a step below chick-flicks so he does trust you.”

Clapping his hands together, “I’d call this one a resounding success. Next up we’re doing pie and mistletoe.”


	3. On The Third Day of Casmas

Castiel looks at his first attempt at pie disappointedly. The filling smells too sweet and the crust is saggy and misaligned. Granted, it’s still unbaked, but he can’t help but pick it apart. He imagines that he’d have to repeat this process at least a dozen times.

Sam, is, as always supportive. “Dean won’t care how it looks.” If only that were true. If only Dean didn’t care how his vessel looked. “He’ll probably smell it, like some sort of bloodhound and rush in here.”

Castiel smiles softly, “That does sound like Dean.”

“Alight.” Sam glances at the recipe once more. “Just pop it in the oven and keep the timer on you.”

“Oh!” Sam exclaims. “I forgot, but I have some mistletoe in my room. Let me know when you need me to… arrange something.”

Castiel nods, but he knows that he won’t do anything of the sort.

He’d had no idea what mistletoe was, or it’s use: to force someone into kissing you.

That isn’t how he wants to kiss Dean for the first time. He’d always pictured something more romantic, like in those chick-flicks Dean has an aversion to. Over dinner, under the stars or maybe one day, just out of the blue… not standing under a piece of bush.

As he strolls down the hall, he walks past Dean’s room, wanting to keep his occupied and away from the kitchen. The soft notes that make it through the door tells him that Dean is already very much busy.

‘Hey Jude’ flows through the crack in the door and Castiel can’t help himself. He stops and listens, invading Dean’s privacy completely, like a man entranced.

When the song ends he walks to his room and turns the light on before finding his list. The list that Dean would kill him over, the list that Dean could never lay eyes on. Castiel had compiled it at a time when he was feeling low, but it’s always nice to remember the things he loves about Dean. He doesn’t even need the paper; he likes the sentimentality though. But if Dean ever reads it he’d know immediately that Castiel is in love with him and then he’d make him leave.

  1. The timbre of his voice as he sings

He sighs and returns the list to its rightful place.

…

Dean’s disposition.

Well, most of the time it’s surly. Tired. Grumpy.

He treats Cass badly most of the time. Especially when he does something stupid and puts himself in danger.

This might be the easiest one on the list to fix. Don’t be mad at Cass. That’s simple enough. Half the time he isn’t even mad anyway, but he just acts pissed to get his point across. But being nicer to Cass brings up problems in itself, problems that threaten all the progress he’d made the past few days. How was he supposed to be nicer if he couldn’t even look Cass in the eye?

Maybe he’d try to explain it. That he talks with his eyes and that Cass should tell him if he starts feeling uncomfortable.

When he gets to the kitchen though, the most wonderful smell wafts over to him. His mouth waters, pie!

Grinning widely he practically _hops_ into the kitchen.

He finds Cass with his finger stuck in the pie, licking out the filling.

Whatever expression he dons, makes Cass recoil, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh man!” he says, grinning again. He approaches the table rapidly pushing his face over the pie and inhaling deeply. “This smells great! When can I eat it?”

Cass fidgets, clearly nervous and Dean suddenly remembers: eye contact. He speaks to the pie next, “They were hiding you from me weren’t they? You delicious morsel.” He coos.

“Why didn’t you tell me Cass?” he wonders, “Why are you even making pie. It’s not like you eat.”

“I uh- I’m practicing.” He says, “For Christmas. I read on the internet that people value gifts that are hand made rather than purchased.”

Oh. “True.” Dean agrees, “So you’re making me and Sam pie for Christmas.”

“Indeed.”

“Can I try it?”

“No!” his voice snaps. Then calmer, “This is my first try.”

He nods slowly, “Alright. But I don’t get how you’re even going to taste it. I thought angels don’t have taste buds.”

“With my powers – um, failing.” He stutters, ashamed, because Dean had made him ashamed, thinking that his only use revolved around his powers. “I am once again privy to human things.”

Dean stands awkwardly, his hands resting on the back of a chair. The last time Cass had been human Dean had cast him aside like a used tissue. This time could be better.

“Well, I like taste buds.” His voice belays his excitement, “They’re the best part of being human I’d say. So, since you can taste now… how about I make Christmas dinner this year?”

Without waiting for a reply, Dean runs into the menu, listing all the things he’d always wished for. “We can have potatoes, and – and a bird. I mean a real big turkey. Or pineapple ham. Or both. You’ll love it.”

“I thought you didn’t like Christmas.” Castiel observes.

Dean shrugs, “I don’t like it when we have to spend it in a shabby motel or fighting for our lives.” He glances at Cass whose face softens. “Now that we’re here – the bunker is safe. I um, Sammy will like it, he’s always been a sucker for this crap. Maybe – maybe you’d like it too. Just to experience it at least once.”

“That – that would be much appreciated Dean.” Cass says, grinning widely, “I can’t wait to actually taste your cooking.”

He snorts, “In another life I’d be a chef.”

“Or a singer.” Castiel retorts.

Dean raises a confused brow.

“I passed by your room earlier.” He admits, “To tell you not to come into the kitchen. The pie was supposed to be a surprise by the way, thanks for ruining that.”

“Anytime.” He responds with a salute, then more seriously, “And I’ll still be surprised. I didn’t get to taste it yet.”

“Anyway.” Castiel scratches an ear, “I heard you singing. It’s nicer than some of the ‘music’ I’ve heard on the radio.”

Blushing, Dean has no trouble not looking at Cass. “I mean – I”

Eyes widening, Cass points at him, “You could sing us Christmas songs.”

“When pigs fly.”

“I’m sure there’s a spell for that.”

“We can decorate too.” he adds, trying to change the topic, “Lights, a tree, the whole works. Maybe even a nice piece of mistletoe… make you and Sam kiss. That’d be funny.”


	4. On The Fourth Day of Casmas

Dean had really talked himself into an corner.

Christmas dinner he said. Turkey and ham he said. It was like when Cass was around all his neurons just fired wrong. All the content on the list had just blurred into some unreadable language. All his mind was concerned with had been saying all the right things to draw out their talk.

His cooking had made the list, sure it was further down, but it’s still there. Sitting on that cursed piece of paper, staring back at him accusingly.

Did everyone hate his cooking? He’d always thought that they loved it. Sam did. But Sam is his brother. Brothers lie to each other all the time to spare each other’s feelings. Cass had been an angel before, ergo, no sense of taste, but still.

Why had he been so excited about him cooking dinner?

“Sam.” He pockets his phone, “Did you like my cooking?”

“What kind of question is that?” he asks, around a mouthful of Dean’s waffles. Of course his brother hadn’t topped it with syrup, it was all mashed fruit that looked a lot like something had regurgitated it onto the plate.

“I thought it would be an easy one.” He retorts, stabbing at his own waffles.

“Dean when we were younger… we either ate out with dad… or we ate whatever you made for me.” he scoffs, “Mac and cheese got boring fast.”

He glances away, trying to mask his flinch. _Sam_ hadn’t even liked it. He doubts that he’s miraculously improved between then and now, so Sam still hates it. Great. Yet another thing that he thought he could do but couldn’t.

Sam frowns, analysing him, “Dean.” He waits till he looks up before continuing, “You know that you were a child yourself.” He sighs, “You know I don’t like to think about this – but – but I remember that you weren’t even tall enough to see over the edge of the pot. But you did it Dean. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining.” Sam’s eyes turn glassy, “Dean how could I ever – how could I _dare_ complain, especially now that I know how much you gave up for me.”

Dean opens his mouth, a rebuttal ready but Sam shuts him down, “Don’t bullshit me about needing to. You never needed to. You were a child. And I might have complained about things back then… but I never had the facts. I was stupid… a child, because that’s what you allowed me to be: a child, even when you never allowed yourself.”

Tears gather in his eyes as he’s forced to remember the times when his sleeves had caught fire on the stove or when the food burned but they had to eat it. It was his job to feed Sam properly and he hadn’t managed to do that.

“Sam…” he swipes at his eyes. He’d cried countless times in front of his little brother, but somehow this time feels different. This is about their childhood. Back then, Dean had kept his game face firmly on. Never letting Sam hear him cry much less crying in front of him.

“Dean, you are my big brother.” Sam’s voice wavers, “And I should have said this a long time ago. But I deeply appreciate everything you’ve done for me. The things I know about and even the ones that I don’t.”

“Thanks Sammy.” He murmurs, not allowing his voice to shake.

He lets a beat pass before asking again, “But you didn’t like the taste… did you?”

Sam laughs, “Not really… at first that is. You got better with time.” he actually beams then, “If you weren’t a hunter, you’d make a great chef.”

Dean scoffs, “Don’t lie to me Sam.”

“I’m not!” his brother insists, “I really think that. Why do you think I don’t complain when you make something that’s unhealthy? Because – because I like it.”

“Cass doesn’t.” he gripes, staring down at his place, not willing to see the look of recognition in his brother’s eyes.

He knows that Sam suspects something. He’s just glad that he hasn’t brought it up more than necessary.

“What do even mean Dean?” Sam chews aggressively, glaring at Dean, “It’s obvious that Cass worships the ground you walk on. And I know for a fact that he enjoys the molecules exactly how you cook them!”

Dean shakes his head sadly, “I know he doesn’t.”

Sam raises a brow, “You gonna share your evidence with the class Dean?”

Reluctantly he pulls his phone out, he doesn’t feel right about showing Sam something he had found while snooping around in Cass’ room. Mostly though, he doesn’t want the shame of having Sam know he’d been completely rejected before he even made a move.

“Look –”

“Cass!” Sam stands instantly walking over to the angel, “Dean has deluded himself into thinking that you hate his cooking.”

He scoffs. He hasn’t ‘deluded’ anything.

…

Castiel glances over to him and he looks away. “Dean. You _know_ that isn’t true. I can’t wait for you to cook Christmas dinner. I thought that we’d established my eagerness to try your cooking with my taste-buds fully functioning the other day. In the kitchen.” Cass waits for some sort of recognition to appear on Dean’s face. It doesn’t come.

He glances over to Sam helplessly.

Dean has a history of putting himself down, but this is a whole new low. Especially since they’d discussed the matter in detail so recently.

He sighs. Just when he thought he had finally gotten into Dean’s good graces.

“Then why is it –!” Dean cuts himself off with a self – depreciating laugh that sends chills up and down Castiel’s spine.

Leaning closer in confusion he cocks his head, trying to hear whatever Dean is muttering.

“Why is it what?” he asks, genuinely confused.

Dean just laughs again. “You know what. Never mind. I don’t give a shit.”

Shouldering past him, Dean leaves the kitchen. Sam stares at him in confusion while Castiel just tries to wrap his head around what had just transpired.

His mere presence still seems to irritate the hunter.


	5. On The Fifth Day of Casmas

Ever since that day in the kitchen, Castiel had felt as though he’d been treading on thin ice with Dean.

He never looks at him.

Never invites Castiel into his room for movie night

Never cooks anymore. After a few days of near starvation Sam had finally dragged himself to the grocery to pick up some frozen meals that always tasted like something akin to garbage.

Now, to top it all off, he’s wandering around the bunker in a tank-top and some type of cottony pants with smiling hotdogs on them.

Castiel hates it. Hates that he’s the cause of this. And Sam just does not seem to understand. He remains steadfast in his credence that Dean actually wants him here.

‘Dean is just going through a bit of a crisis.’ ‘Give him time.’

Dean was always cordial during their interactions, but the thing is… Dean had… not once sought the angel out with the exception of that one time in the kitchen. But there had been pie. Dean would take pie from his greatest enemy so that sure certainly no standard by which to measure their relationship.

“Maybe I should take him out for a drive.” Castiel glances at Sam for his opinion.

He seems to consider the idea, nodding slowly.

“Driving in the Impala is always relaxing for Dean.” He surmises, “You two will be alone so that’s a plus.” Sam scratches his beard sheepishly, “I think that half the time he doesn’t do something around you that it’s because he doesn’t want me to see.”

“Maybe you should make your position clear.” Offers Castiel. Honestly, that seems like a plausible option… very Dean.

“I _have_.” Sam stresses, “Like, so many times that even Dean couldn’t have missed it.”

“He still doesn’t believe me about my wanting him to cook.” Castiel says in exasperation, “And if I can’t even do that then what good am I?”

“You’re perfect Cass.” Sam assures with a friendly pat.

“I don’t want to have to leave again.” He admits hanging his head, “I felt lost without you and Dean. I tried… many things to forget or to at least find a semblance of stability. Nothing worked. And to do it again, would be crippling to me.”

“You’re family Cass. You never _have_ to leave.”

“Maybe so.” He mumbles. “But, I could never, in good conscience, remain here in Dean’s home when he’s clearly uncomfortable with it. If – if things haven’t improved between us by the new year I will take my leave once more.”

Sam clenches his jaw, “Then I have to make sure it won’t come to that.”

Castiel bites his lip, looking away. In all honesty, he’s shocked at Sam’s determination. How much faith he has in their bond.

“Sam.” He asks tentatively, “Can I show you something in my room?”

“Um sure. Lead the way.”

…

“This is a list I made.” Castiel carefully passes the crumpled piece of paper to Sam. “Of all the things I love about Dean and would miss.”

Sam’s eyes peruse the list and he frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“Nothing.” Sam lies. Castiel can tell though. He knows the Winchesters. Sam’s voice is too high, the ‘nothing’ said to swiftly to be truthful. The question is: why is he lying?

…

“Dean?” Castiel knocks weakly then curses himself. Dean probably hadn’t even heard him.

He takes a breath, preparing to knock again only to have Dean swing the door wide open.

“Heya Cass.”

“Can we go for a drive.” The angel blurts.

Dean glances back into his room, most likely searching for an excuse to ditch him. “Suree.” His says drawing out the word and shifting uncomfortably.

On their way to the garage Castiel hmms quietly catching Dean’s attention, “We’ve barely talked recently.” He says, deciding that forthright is the way to go. “And I wanted to know if that means you still have an issue with me.”

“No Cass. No issue here.”

“Good.” He states firmly. “Then I’m looking forward to this drive.

…

Dean watches the road more than he ever has. Usually Sam would have to flinch every time his attention was diverted and he glanced either across at Sam or back to Castiel. Now his gaze is directed unflinchingly at the road.

He still talks though. About things they see as they pass by, or that Baby needs a tune up after running halfway around the country. About how good Castiel’s pie smells and how he can’t wait to taste it.

“I _do_ love your cooking.” He blurts, “The way you make the molecules taste. I wasn’t lying to you Dean.”

Shifting his grip on the wheel Dean glances at him for a split second.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He replies. Castiel perks up, an idea taking root in his mind, “In fact, why don’t we go shopping. Get the ham and the bird.” He drawls, trying to make the offer more enticing, similar to when people on TV tried to convince a customer to buy an extra product. “You always say that people buy all the good ones early.”

Clicking his tongue, Dean nods slowly. “I see your point.”

…

“Dean!” Castiel holds up his turkey like a prize. Dean had assigned him the task of choosing the bird while Dean went to the other end of the freezer section for the ham.

Dean grins. “You got a good one, buddy.” He appraises while poking and looking at the bird from different angles.

“A lady with a stick tried to steal it from me.”

Laughing, Dean places it in the cart next the his own sizable piece of ham. “Did you beat up a poor old lady Cass?”

He gives Dean an indignant stare, “Of course not. She’s a child compared to me.” he glances at Dean before resting an arm across the handle of the trolley… right next to Dean’s.

“You snatched it and ran.” He surmises, not seeming to notice Castiel’s arm.

“Yeah.” He admits sheepishly. “Oh no.” he glances up and the lady is fast approaching.

Dean lays a protective hand on the turkey.

“You two make such a nice couple.”

Dean’s mouth tumbles open and his grip on the turkey slackens. If Castiel hadn’t snapped his hand down onto Dean’s … and the turkey, then they would have lost it for sure.


	6. On The Sixth Day Of Casmas

The ride back is tense. Dean doesn’t even speak to him other than telling him to carry up the groceries while he fiddles with the Impala.

Sure Dean could drone on and on about mileage and wear and tear but Castiel knows what it really is. An excuse, to get him out of the room. He always leaves when Dean is taking care of Baby. How can he not? He knows nothing of mechanics or tools and Dean always seems so focused that he hates to disrupt his concentration.

But like Sam had told him recently… cars aren’t only about the engine. There’s a whole exterior… and Castiel thinks it’s due for a wash.

With a plan in mind. He zips up the stairs and stows the groceries in the freezer then heads straight for the supply closet for soap and a bucket.

Stupid turkey lady.

She’s managed to make Dean clam up even more than usual, and that’s saying something.

“Cass.” Sam calls stopping in the doorway just as Castiel is undressing. He knows fully well that Dean would pitch a fit if he shows up in his normal get up. Sam leans against the door way, staring pointedly at him. Strange, Castiel thinks, humans usually have difficulties with catching someone in a state of undress… Dean usually does.

“We need to talk.”

“I can’t right now Sam.” He says in a rush, grabbing the bucket and sponge, “I’ve got an urgent matter.”

“This is –”

“Sam seriously.” He says, trying to get past him, “Time is of the essence.”

Reluctantly, Sam steps aside. “Alright. Come find me as soon as you’re done.”

“Of course.”

…

Castiel enters the garage and the first thing that greets him is Dean’s posterior. Quite literally. It’s sticking out just enough that the door doesn’t hit it but Castiel definitely makes some inappropriate contact. Dean jerks away knocking his head rather loudly on the light above his work bench.

“You really put the…” he lets that one trail off. ‘the ass in Dean.’ But that makes no sense.

“Ass is Cass huh?” Dean mumbles catching on quickly. “If I’d known you wanted to feel me up I’d have set an appointment.”

“Would you though?” he squints back. Years and years of confusion have led him to pinpointing Dean’s ‘joking voice.’

“No.” Dean’s eyes drift downward, to the bucket. “What’s up with the bucket?” Dean frowns, “And more importantly why are you naked?”

He glances down. “I am most certainly _not_ naked.” He gestures to his underwear.

“Sure Cass. Strip down to your tight-y whiteies and call yourself not naked.”

“Would you rather I take this off too?”

Dean scoffs, flushing, “Sure thing, then you and you bee buddies will hop onto Baby.”

Castiel holds the bucket up. “I’m going to wash the Impala.”

Mouth dropping open Dean looks uncertain.

“Look, Dean, I may not understand your obsession with certain things but I know we’re kind of in a strange place after the incident at the grocery.”

“Uh huh.”

He places the bucket on the floor and squirts some soap into it uncertainly.

“Woah, we want her clean, not stripped of paint.”

Castiel stirs the soap and water forming a sudsy mixture. Dean hums in approval, “You picked the right cloth though.” He smiles.

“Um.” Dean scratches his ears. “How bout I strip down and join you. Show you the ropes.”

“Of washing a car?” he wonders uncertainly.

Shrugging, Dean tosses his jeans to the side followed by his outer layer but keeps the jersey on. The tales of Dean Winchester’s beauty are told on all the planes and Castiel can attest that it does not wane with time.

“You uh… toss me the other cloth.”

Castiel balls it up and throws it at Dean, wincing as it lands with a splat on his jersey. “Thank you.” he says sarcastically.

“Any time.” he responds in the same tone.

It’s faster with the two of them and Dean takes the harder places, like the windows and near the wheels. Castiel wishes he would maybe just slow down a bit.

…

Baby is washed and dried in almost an hour longer than usual.

Things would have gone expediently faster had good ole Cass decided to actually put some clothes on.

Dean tries his best to keep them on opposite sides of the car but he still manages to catch a good look at his friend’s ass every time he bends over.

Worst of all… _Sam_ showed up about twenty minutes ago wondering where they both went. He’s taken on long look at their state of undress and vanished. Dean would bet his life that Sam hadn’t even noticed the soaking wet car that was the centre of the whole activity. As soon as he’s done here he’ll have to explain to Sam that it wasn’t what it looked like.

He can’t afford to have his brother walking around thinking that him and Cass are doing the deed. Moreover, he can’t have Sam _asking _Cass about their supposed relationship. That is a recipe for disaster.

…

“Sam.” Castiel knocks on his door trying to contain his excitement. He’s pretty sure that Sam already knows what’s happening but he needs to thank him in person.

“Cass.” Sam’s face is distraught.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was looking over your list.” He speaks slowly as though wanting to prolong the exchange. “And something occurred to me. Number twelve.”

Sam gulps and looks over to Castiel.

“The way he looks at me.” Saying it out loud makes him uncomfortable but Sam already knows the contents of the list.

“Dean… um, you complained that he couldn’t look at you.”

He had.

“Then. M-m-movie night.” Sam stammers, “Dean was acting weird then too. And the thing with his cooking and attitude problem. Then today… if you didn’t notice… not an ounce of flannel on him.”

Castiel had noticed and stupidly discounted it.

It all makes sense now.

Dean had read his list and Dean hates him so much that he’s willing to change everything that Castiel loves about him in order to drive the angel away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: there's a place called Cass Business School in London. (My mind was blown)
> 
> Second Fun Fact: there will be another update tomorrow :D


	7. On The Seventh Day Of Casmas

Dean likes to think himself capable.

He does things.

Learns things on the fly.

He’s not the brightest bulb in the box but he’s got common sense and a can do attitude.

Apparently, that’s not good enough for his dear angel friend.

He’s been studying, and it makes him feel like a ten year old trying to impress the hot teacher. He’s watched three documentaries on bees, honey and nature and crammed some astrophysics and a bit of chemistry. Most importantly though, is the book on angel lore. Dean has already read it once, cover to cover now he’s re-reading it just so he won’t embarrass himself.

Damn, his eyes are burning. He has no idea how Sam continues to _enjoy_ doing this stuff.

…

Sam and Cass are already in the kitchen, chatting quietly. If they keep it up Dean will begin to wonder if the two of them have something funky going on.

He approaches them, as casually as possible. “Hey Cass. Did you know that bees die after they sting someone.”

Damn it. Too morbid.

“Um…” he tries again, “To make uh, one pound of money the bee… one bee… has to fly around the world three times.” It’s purely regurgitation… c’mon, no one can actually learn that much in one night.

The angel looks unperturbed. Right he probably already knew all those things. Dean probably looks like a howling monkey right now, showing it’s master a piece of shit.

Okay.

Okay.

He can still save this shit fest.

“So uh…” he clears his throat, noticing that both Sam and Cass are now raptly watching his train wreck, “Angels.” He laughs awkwardly. “They… you guys don’t actually fly, you teleport. Bet you never knew that I knew.”

And again. Cue impassiveness.

“Um, you were the fastest angel in your garrison. That’s why you got to me first.” He blabbers and did you know that some people think Michael has scales. Scales!”

“Dean are you high.”

Cass laughs haughtily, “No Sam. He’s just showing off his wealth of knowledge to us fools.”

“Hey Dean?” Sam calls, “Can you step outside for a minute?”

“Step outside.” He parrots. What the f-

…

The minute Dean leaves the room is the minute Castiel explodes and heads off on a tangent. “Sam, you know everything he just said about archangels and seraphs is completely untrue don’t you?”

Sam nods, but remains silent.

“Why would Dean even say it then?” he wonders, “He’s smart. But that’s the problem. He’s smart so he’s using this list against me and is pretending to be a blubbering idiot.” He blinks waiting for some sort of vindication. “Say something Sam.”

“That’s alliteration.” Says Sam, perking up.

“Stop deflecting.” He snaps.

“Sorry.” Sam mutters, “Just… maybe we have this the wrong way around. What if … and I’m just spit balling here so don’t bite my head off. What if Dean thinks that driving you away is something he has to do to… keep your safe or protect your feelings or whatever? You know how he is.”

“I do know.” He replies sullenly, “Which is why I’m positive that feelings have nothing to do with this.”

“That’s not fair.” Sam argues. Of course. Sam and Dean the dynamic duo, always protecting each other and sticking up for themselves.

“I think I have to go.” He says, steeling himself.

Walking out a second time would be no easy feat. But Castiel knows how much suffering it would save him. He’d been a fool to come back and ever more a fool to believe the Winchesters’ empty words.

“Goodbye Sam.” He says softly, “Thank you for all the good years we’ve had.”

Sam scowls, “You’re not welcome Cass.” He snaps, “And you aren’t leaving. Do you that I would put you through this… put myself through this if I didn’t truly believe from the bottom of my heart that Dean feels something for you too.”

“Feels something.” His breath catches in his throat. “Sam this isn’t –”

Sam laughs loudly, “What book are you reading buddy?” he laughs again, “Of course I know how you feel. Why do you think I suggested mistletoe and don’t get me started on how romantic that scene in the garage was. I mean I should have started singing immediately ‘Dean and Cass sitting on the Impala K-I-S-S-I-N-G.’”

He rubs at his ears in distaste, “Please refrain from… whatever that was.”

“Ouch.” Sam says in mock hurt. “But Cass, I know how you feel about him. It’s as plain as day. And I think he feels the same way or I wouldn’t have pushed you into this whole plan.”

His eyes widen.

There is no greater authority on Dean Winchester than Sam.

If he says Dean is a pig with no tail then that’s exactly what Dean is.

“But if my feelings are so obvious…” he trails off in fear, “What if Dean noticed too?”

“Dean?” he asks sarcastically, “Dean, my brother who talks about no one ever… no one that he likes. Did you mean my brother who is so emotionally constipated that he gorged himself on food and things that make me shudder?”

Castiel grumbles quietly, “I think you’ve made your point.”

Sam huffs, “Damn right I have.”

…

Dean jumps onto his bead, green with envy.

All Cass wants to do is talk to Sam now.

They could braid each other’s hair for all he cares.

Yet, he still picks up the book on angels and skims it again looking for something that might truly rile Cass up. In his exhaustion the book tumbles out of his hands and lands with the cover face up. Dean rubs his eyes in disbelief.

In all his bleary eyed hysteria he’d misread the title of the book. All his stupid eyes had picked up on was angel and he went with it. He flings the book away wanting to claw the title off; Myths About Angels.


	8. On The Eighth Day Of Casmas

Dean spends the next few days wallowing after his slip up. Cass probably thinks that he’s even more of an idiot now.

He doesn’t even know how to move through the list after such a failure. _Should _he even move through the list? Or had he screwed the pooch one last time?

On the plus side, Dean hasn’t touched his shoulder in days so that counts for something.

Pie is continually baking Cass. Or rather, Cass is continually baking pie. He’s lost the ability to distinguish between the two. The smell of pie permeates the bunker air almost every day and whenever Cass passes by his door, the smell wafts through the cracks. What’s worse is, that he’s taken up making bacon and leaving it by the door. Probably as an apology for making all the pie that Dean can’t eat. But that doesn’t make sense. Cass’ list strictly says that he hates Dean’s food obsession

Maybe he’s tempting Dean? No, that doesn’t make sense either. Or… could it be – things that Cass likes about him. It’s – possible, that someone might like the way he dresses and his obsession with food and Baby. But no, that can’t be right either.

Screw it. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t really care. He has one goal: following that retched list and he’s been doing a piss poor job so far. Though, Dean supposes, that starving himself for days isn’t helping much. He can’t remember the last time he had any kind of food to eat… besides the strips of bacon he’d taken during moments of weakness.

Ugh.

Jeeze, how do people ever survive diets. Or fasting.

Damn. Patting his stomach in apology he takes a few sips of water from the bottle near his bedside.

Boom! Boom!

He presses his hands against his ears to stop the terrible sound.

“Dean can I come in.”

‘No!’ he wants to shout. All that comes out of his dry throat though is an embarrassing croak.

Sam opens the door anyway and regards him critically, “You look terrible.” He says with real concern. He waves Dean’s hands away and presses his own to Dean’s temple. “Damn it Dean!” he hisses, stomping away to the bathroom. Good riddance, Dean thinks, shutting his eyes and enjoying the peace. “Dean! Open your eyes! You are literally burning up.”

He sighs, annoyed with Sam and his mothering. What’s a little fever to a Winchester. Dean doesn’t even _get_ sick.

Something icy and wet slams onto his head and he yelps, flying up, only to be shoved back down. “Stay still.” Orders Sam, pointing at him and shouting for Cass down the corridor.

Ugh. “We don’t even need Cass.” He mumbles.

“Sam?” Cass calls, entering in a whorl of trench-coat. The first words out of his mouth are: “Dean why are you wearing a tuxedo.”

“I’ve got a passion for fashion.” he slurs.

…

“Dean barely even eats my bacon.” Castiel hears the distinctive whining note to his voice but he doesn’t really care. Sam’s plan is failing and Castiel is tired of being played for a fool.

“Sam.” He says slowly, making his voice calmer. “I have an idea.”

Sam frowns, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Well, if Dean is really using this list against me… and not in the touchy feely way you seem to think he is.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yes it is.” He snaps, “But I don’t want to fight with you. We just need a way to test my theory.”

“How do we do that?” Sam asks with trepidation.

“I – uh, extend my list.” He announces. He’s given his idea much thought and it’s the only way to tell for sure. Sam could only deny things so long and Castiel can’t wait around in suspense forever. “I extend the list. Add on things… that are actually bad about Dean and see if he does the opposite. And if he does – we’ll know for sure that he’s trying to drive me away. Maybe he’ll even pick up some good habits along the way.” He adds with forced optimism.

“Can you think of one?” Sam retorts, seemingly amused.

“Of course.” He sputters indignantly. Internally, he’s wracking his brain to find something about Dean that he wants to put on that list.

“You can’t think of anything can you?”

“Yes. _Yes._” Castiel insists. “There are – many – many things. I am merely sorting through them.”

“Lucky for you.” Sam smirks, “I have lots of things I don’t like about Dean. The way he keeps secrets, drinks like an alcoholic and never cleans up after himself. Let’s not even mention that he’s never up front with his feelings. Or maybe we should… you decide.”

Ah, at least he has some ideas.

  1. The secretive aura he has
  2. How he handles his drinks
  3. His ability to express emotion

He rests it next to Sam who seems lost in thought.

“Cass?” he says, slowly, almost fearfully. “When was the last time you saw Dean?”

Castiel is prepared to say just this morning. But it hadn’t been this morning… sure, the bacon left at his door had been an interaction. But to his knowledge Dean hadn’t left his room since…

“I need to check on him.” Sam stands hurriedly.

Castiel waits quietly.

“Cass!” he hears Sam call.

He shoves the list into his pocket and rushes to Dean’s room.

The first thing he notices is the tux.

“I’ve got a passion for fashion.” Dean drones.

“Cass… can you heal him.”

He feels his heart drop. “No. I can’t.”

Taking it in stride, Sam orders him to go to the kitchen to get some food. He stares, almost distraught, at the fridge. What should he bring? What would Dean even eat? His first instinct has him grabbing the pie and then as a second thought a cucumber. Then he decides to grab a huge bowl and throw everything into it.

Sam gapes at the mountain of food. “The cucumber.” He orders.

“Nooo.” Dean moans.

“Dean. Please.” Sam begs, “Cass will slice it for you.”

Dean glances at him for confirmation. With a sigh, he nods. “Of course Dean.”

…

Dean wakes to the feeling of hands ghosting across his lips. He’d originally though the whole thing had been a fever dream, but the cucumber stains on his blanket where Cass had fumbled at the feel of Dean’s tongue on his fingers was evidence enough.

That and… of course, the crumpled list, detailing everything he hates about Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update is on Friday!  
Chapter 11 is where shit gets real *ten thousand winks*


	9. On The Ninth Day Of Casmas

Dean stares at it long and hard. Eyeing the new elements.

He remembers thinking once… a fantasy really, that the things Cass had listed are things that he loves about Dean. This is proof that he’s horribly wrong. His alcoholism, emotional constipation… no one in their right mind would love that. Does Cass know that he knows?

Blanching, Dean sets the list aside. He is determined not to throw up on it… or his only tuxedo.

Okay. He needs to think this through, logically. Like a person who is not delirious.

If Cass does know that Dean found his list, then he knows that Dean was snooping in his room. Not good. But that also means, that since he added more and planted it in his room hoping that Dean would continue his trend and stop doing the things that Cass doesn’t like.

That’s progress!

And besides progress, it’s the first thing that’s made him feel warm and fuzzy for the longest while.

No matter what obstacles are thrown at him, Dean vows that he will get to the bottom of this list.

…

“Why would he do that to himself?” Castiel wonders.

Sam just sits there, biting his fingers, looking guilty. “I don’t really know. Dean … you know how he gets. But the thing is…” he sighs, “_we _ should have noticed. I mean, we’ve been so caught up in wooing Dean that we forgot about _actual Dean_.”

“I know.” He murmurs, ducking his head in shame. He’d never seen Dean look so frail. “It’s best we just stop this.”

“Not stop.” Sam amends, “Just… pause, until we figure out what’s going on with Dean.”

…

Castiel is startled awake by pounding on the door. Groggy he almost trip over his feet a few times getting there.

Sam glares at him accusingly. “What the hell is this Cass?” he shoves the list, now crumpled into his chest.

Shocked, he fumbles.

“It was in my jacket.” He says in his defence. “It – it must have fallen out!”

“Sure. Just tumbled right out onto Dean’s bed.” Sam huffs, disappointment filling his eyes, “I thought we agreed on this Cass. We’re taking a sabbatical from this stuff.”

“I know Sam, I would never –”

“Then how else do you explain this?”

“I swear.” Castiel blubbers. Sam is going to make him leave, he’s sure of it. “I swear I would – never – do – t-that to Dean.”

“Damnit.” Sam hisses, weaving a hand through his hair. “I know Cass. This whole thing just has me on edge. Sorry.”

“Do you think he saw it?” Castiel asks carefully.

That forces a wry laugh from Sam, “Oh, he saw it.” Says Sam, moving to block the door way.

Frowning, Castiel tries to look past him. “Let me see.”

“Go back to bed Cass. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Castiel sighs and heads back into his room. He waits two minutes after Sam’s footsteps fade before he steps out quietly. He tiptoes over to Dean’s room.

The first thing he notices is the doorway. The wooden door has been completely unhinged and leans on the adjacent wall. Inside are a line of liquor bottles, all drained and placed near Dean’s bedside like some sort of show. The worst thing though, is Dean.

He’s still wearing the tuxedo and looks about two seconds from fainting. Castiel immediately feels guilty. His friend doesn’t deserve this in his time of sickness. Though, the fact that Dean has done all of this in the first place, proves just how much he wants Castiel gone.

“Dean.” He says gently.

“You like it Cass?” he gestures to the room. He hates it.

“This is very dramatic.” He says instead. “You still seem ill Dean, why don’t you lie down?”

As he gets closer and closer to a skittish Dean, he notices the wavering lines of melted make-up on his face.

  1. The way his smile has crow’s feet

It almost brings him to tears. He never should have written that list, much less left it in a place Dean would see it. Rookie mistake. Castiel had thought that the laugh lines looked – nice – on Dean. An indicator of his wisdom and life. He’s well aware of how much Dean hates make up so this must have been an arduous task for him. The fact that he did it shows commitment.

Commitment to mocking him and driving him away. Well, maybe not mocking him. Dean is probably still delirious from the fever. But right now, surrounded by empty bottles and make up in a door-less room, Castiel feel as though he’s the biggest joke on the earth.

Sam would be inevitably mad when he realised what was really pushing Dean into this abyss. Then he would be begging Castiel to leave. This had all been a mistake. A weakness.

Castiel should have followed his brain and stayed away after he left the first time. But no, he’d succumb to human weakness and now he’s paying the price.

Tucking the blankets around Dean, he carefully wipes off the sticky make up. He hates the look of it and how it blocks Dean’s natural beauty. Patting Dean’s feverish head, Castiel drapes the damp rag across from it once more and sets out the Tylenol. He rips the list to shreds, wanting to stomp and burn the remains, cursing it for being the thing that had started this in the first place. Without it, Dean might still hate him, but he would never act like this. Mocking his feelings and turning them into a frivolous joke. Lastly, he presses his palm to Dean’s forehead, sending the last of his grace, like a surge through Dean. It’s barely enough to heal him, but it does jump start the process.

He won’t watch Dean betray himself in this manner and shame Castiel along the way, but he also can’t bring himself to leave until Dean is better. His mind is made up and nothing can change it this time.


	10. On The Tenth Day Of Casmas

When Metatron downloaded the entire history of human entertainment into Castiel’s mind, he’d come across the saying ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back on multiple occasions.’ He’d paid it no heed, because in his mind, Castiel was unshakable… could withstand the most vicious of attacks. But all of a sudden, he finds himself taking it all back. Turns out that there is something that can rattle him.

And the straw that broke the camel’s back? Blue contacts.

Dean strides into the kitchen in his tuxedo no less, not looking at or speaking a word to Castiel. He goes straight for the blender and pops in a tomato, cucumber and a few blueberries. Even Sam cringes at that combination. Though, they should be thankful that Dean’s even left his room… that he’s eating anything at all.

It’s when he sits that Castiel sees it. Green eyes, now turned blue. In a moment of panic, he thinks that Dean has somehow managed to change their colour permanently. Then he remembers the coloured contacts trend that he’d been seeing ads about.

“Do you like them Cass?” Dean asks, blinking a few times to show them off.

Cringing, Castiel snaps, letting his anger and resentment flow out at Dean, “NO! I hate them! _Hate! Hate! Hate them!”_

Dean wilts slightly as though disappointed, but why would he be disappointed when he plan is working splendidly?

Castiel is done with this. Done with Sam’s plan. And most of all done with this spiteful Dean who has taken over his friend. Dean looks well enough now. No longer pale and sweating meaning that the fever has broken. He’s eating, drinking, coming outside. In other words, he’s well enough that Castiel can finally leave him, knowing that Sam will be checking up on him. Finally, he can get away from the pit in his stomach and nagging feeling of never being enough.

He’d tried and tried to break through the barrier that had held them apart. To restore their friendship and for a few days he’d been sure that things were going well… that Dean was trying too and wanted this as much as he does. Sam’s plan had seemed like such a good idea at the start, now all it does is make him feel even worse.

If he wasn’t sure about leaving then… he definitely is now. He had to leave. For himself. For Sam. And definitely for Dean.

Castiel takes a deep breath, trying to stop his nerves from belaying how much this decision pains him. Licking his lips, he opens his mouth, ready to deal the final blow and end this torture…

Smash!

Sam remains completely still. The only indication that he’d smashed his cup against the table is the handle clutched in a white knuckle grip and the shards on the ground. His face is the picture of rage. His forehead is furrowed, his teeth barred in a scowl and his eyes fliting between Castiel and Dean in a dance of ire.

Glancing at Dean, he finds his face void of expression, staring at Sam in shock. Of the two brothers, Sam is the least likely to explode like this. That alone makes Castiel inch away slightly.

“You need to stop this bullshit!” he yells slamming his palm into the table, making both of them jump. “It’s sickening. It’s childish. And I. Will. Not. Condone. It. Any. Longer.”

“Sam I don’t-” whatever Dean was about to say is cut off.

“Eh. No.” Sam hisses, “You don’t talk to me.” he points at Dean threateningly. “Don’t you dare talk to _me._” he gestures to Castiel next, “Talk to him or you talk to no one.”

Dean opens his mouth again but Sam beats him to it.

“Dean. So help me God.” He growls, “If you two don’t start talking in the next minute… I – I will –” Sam gulps, “I will shave my entire head!”

This seems to amuse Dean, who tries to subdue his small grin. “Is that supposed to motivate us?”

Sam scoffs at him. “Fine. I will shave _all_ our heads. You. Cass. Me.” Sam make a menacing cutting motion. “Do you know what people will call us then?”

He waits for an answer.

“Hairless?” Castiel ventues.

Sam laughs, “No. The Bald-chesters. Cause we’ll be bald. The Three Muska-baldies.”

Sighing, Dean waves him away. “Fine. Me and Cass will talk.” He glances at Castiel for confirmation and the angel manages a small nod. Sam is really scaring him. “But only if you aren’t listening.”

“Fine.” Sam agrees, marching off, crunching glass along the way.

Dean winces. “Stupid brother of mine is treading glass everywhere.” He looks directly at Castiel then. But the angel can’t maintain his gaze; not when the blue in his eyes looks so unnatural. “Do you know what he wanted us to talk about?”

“Yeah.” Castiel breathes. Okay. One last try. Figure out why Dean is doing this. “I know you found my list.”

Dean cocks his head. “You left it for me to find.”

“Why are you doing this?” His voice sounds desperate this time.

“I don’t – understand. I’m doing this because of you.” Dean says. Castiel feels that like a blow. “Don’t you like it?” Dean really doesn’t want him here.

“No.” he whispers. “I don’t.”

Silence fills the space between them.

“That’s why I have to leave.”

Dean’s head jerks up then, pinning him with an unreal blue stare. Good. It reminds him of why he has to go.

“Take care of yourself.” He says in parting.

Dean heaves a breath. “You know what Cass? I did – I followed every –” Dean’s hands ball into fists. “Screw you.”

Dean starts moving then, faster than Castiel had anticipated, dragging him towards the door. “Good riddance and don’t you dare come back!” Dean turns on his heel and marches away.

Castiel’s breath hitches as he watches Dean walk away. He never wanted it to end this way. But Dean has made it clear that things are unfixable between them. He’s given Castiel a warning; don’t come back. And he won’t. Not that he was planning to anyway. He manages to take one step forward before his body locks up completely.

Castiel had been content with never realising the potential of their bond. He’d been soothed into complacency with small touches and longing looks, but that stops now. After all, he’s leaving and he’s never coming back. Consequences be damned. If he’s going out, he bring it all crashing down with him.

Whirling around, he marches over to the map table and wrenches Dean’s shoulder around. Ignoring Dean’s surprise, he shoves him backward and he sprawls on his back atop the map table. Castiel takes a second to just look at him… remember him… remember his soul.

Castiel leans down, resting his elbows on either side of Dean’s head. He hates seeing the confusion in his eyes. He sees many things in his eyes in fact: confusion, fear, weariness.

But not love.

So Castiel shuts his eyes and, for the first time, presses his lips to Dean Winchester’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh for this work. The final two chapters should be posted between the 19th and 22nd of December! Hope you enjoyed!


	11. On The Eleventh Day Of Casmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where shit goes down

Dean finds himself flung back into the table and he prepares himself for a fight. He’s certainly pissed enough to deliver a few blows and let his frustration out. He’d done _everything_! Dean was trying more than he’d ever tried in his entire life… and the worst part? He was just starting to think that things were looking up.

Cass couldn’t appreciate his effort? He hated it? Well sc-

Warm lips slam into his own. His head knocks against the table and the pain is the only thing that makes him believe that this is real. Cass is kissing him. It’s … nice. A sense of closeness that they’d never had before. That one final barrier. Shattered by the wrecking ball Cass just threw at him. Somehow… someway… Cass is kissing him. Cass _wants_ to kiss him. It’s almost deadly intoxicating.

At least, until he rips away.

He pants and Dean just lays there, unable to get his muscles to co-operate.

“Goodbye Dean.” Castiel says brokenly, taking one last look. The sadness in his eyes is unmistakable and Dean feels like a jackass when he realises: in all his shock he’d forgotten to kiss him back.

His heart bursts into overdrive as Cass makes his way up the first rungs of stairs, in the same dejected walk he’d seen once before. The emotions that come with the memoires almost send him to his knees. But the emotions when he thinks of a life without Cass send him bolting forward.

“Cass! Cass! Cass!” he calls on repeat as he stomps up the stairs. The angel doesn’t stop.

“Wait!” he calls.

Cass turns then, one hand braced on the door, eyeing him contemplatively. Whatever he needs to say has to be epic… life changing.

“Stay.” He blurts. God damn the Winchester charm.

“Why should I?” Cass returns.

Dean flounders then, his mouth opening and closing like a fish fresh out of water. Cass turns away and his heartbeat drowns the sound of his footsteps. What happens next is purely fight or flight. He’d fight for Cass any day of the week.

“Because I love you!” his throat is sore from screaming it. “I love you.” he says in a quieter tone as Cass turns to look at him.

Now that it’s out in the open, Dean almost wished he could take it back. Although… it makes Cass look… happy.

“Dean.” He breathes, releasing the door. He stumbles down the few rungs separating them and engulfs Dean in a hug. Dean, for his part melts into it. “I love you too.”

Sometime later, Dean doesn’t know, Cass releases him and pulls back to knock his shoulder. “But you seriously can’t make jokes like that. It wasn’t funny Dean. I thought – I thought _horrible things._”

“What?”

“The list?” Castiel huffs, “Why did you mock me for it?”

“Mock you?” Dean shrieks. “I followed – I changed every single thing you hated about me. And you acted like it wasn’t good enough!”

…

Castiel freezes up as the hilarity – and there’s no other suitable word to describe this – washes over him. “Dean?” he says slowly, his entire grace still abuzz from Dean’s confession. He could barely believe his ears. He still half doubts that it’s all real. “What do you think my list is?”

“A list. Of all the things you hate about your ole pal Dean.”

He laughs then, which earns him a glare from Dean. “So – so all this time, you’ve been operating on the basis that I hated these things about you and you did so much to change them… to get me to stay?” Dean nods. “And all this time Sam and I have been trying to get you to open up to me by doing the things you love and that didn’t word because you were pretending not to like them for me?”

Dean laughs then too, his shoulders almost instantly releasing their tension. “Wow Cass, we really know how to work against each other while trying to work for each other.”

“My list… if you haven’t realised… is a list of all the things I love about you Dean.”

“Label your damn lists Cass!” Castiel cracks a smile at that.

…

Dean almost trips and tumbles off the stairs – almost killing his newly found bliss. And why? Because of his little brother Sam.

Sam barges in, his eyes darting everywhere. “I hear shouting. Are you both alive?”

Dean smirks, a prank taking root. He discretely leans into Cass, whispering, “When he starts yelling… kiss me again.”

“Will you kiss me back?”

Dean scoffs, “I’m not one to let an opportunity pass my by twice in as many minutes.”

“I literally cannot believe you two. After all these years of waiting and waiting and _enduring_. You have no idea what I’ve endured for your oblivious asses. Dean… Cass you two are in love.” Sam takes a breath, “And I’m sorry I had to tell you this way but you’ve left me no other ch-”

His brother breaks off… that or Dean tunes him out. Kissing Cass a second time is even better than the first. For one, he’s prepared and he lets his tongue get in on the action. Cass’ lips are soft and wet and Dean feels more at peace and more at home than he ever has. “Don’t leave me.”

Cass pulls away to stroke his cheek, “Never again.”

“Guys?” Sam’s voice is deadly calm, “Is this happening? Or have I gone insane?”

“Yup. This is happening Sammy.” He takes hold of Cass’ hand with a wide grin. “We’re in love.”

Sam engulfs them both in a hug then, plunging Dean into a sea of hair. “I’m so proud of you Dean. And I’m so happy for both of you.” he pulls back, laying a hand on Cass’ shoulder, “I told you so.”

The angel smiles, “Yes you did.”

…

It’s only when Sam walks away that Dean decides to lean down for another kiss. Cass moans against his lips and he smiles. “I love you.”

And of course, Cass’ reply is: “I love you more.”

“Debatable.” Ha laughs, “But seriously buddy we need to have a talk. Air all our dirty laundry and start this … um…”

“Partnership?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Start this partnership on stable ground.”

“I agree Dean. We should let the sun shine on our faces as we bask in our newfound happiness. There – there have been some things I’ve wanted to tell you.”

“Oh I bet there are.” They both whorl to stare at Sam. His face is funny and his voice is distorted. Dean knows that devious smile could never be his baby brother’s. Dread settles into Dean’s bones. “I see you’ve um, _forgotten._” It smirks at Castiel

Cass’ hand clamps down his own in terror as Sam’s face flickers.

“The Shadow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: this chapter was basically fluff until I remembered Cass' deal. (Looks our favorite and have something in common there)


	12. On The Twelfth Day Of Casmas

Dean stares in confusion at the entity who let Castiel annoy him into freedom.

Had he lied? Did he make a deal to come back? Why hadn’t Dean questioned it more?

“Cass?” he whispers.

“I – um –”

The entity sneers. “Why… he made a deal of course.” He steps forward and Dean cringes. This is Sam’s body sneering at him. “Don’t worry about your brother. He’ll be… peachy. But Castiel… Cass? I’ll call you Cass. Never did I think I would come to collect. I mean, I wish you a life of misery and to see it come to a close so soon is… disappointing.”

“Then don’t collect him.” Dean blurts. He just told Cass he loves him, Dean isn’t willing to let that go anytime soon.

The Shadow lifts a brow. “A deal is a deal Winchester.”

“But… I mean, if you take him now he just goes to bed. Maybe – maybe I wake him up again and you send him back. Maybe we repeat that cycle for eternity. I’m a persistent bastard. Imagine how long you’ll be awake… interrupted sleep is the worst, am I right?”

That seems to anger it. Castiel takes a step back, visibly terrified.

“You didn’t hold up your end. Jack is dead.” Ah, so that’s why he made the deal.

He tuts, “See, I agreed to let him free that one time. Anything after that… well that’s on you isn’t it?”

“You want him to suffer?” Dean asks changing tack. “Well he’ll be with me. Have you met me? More than ten minutes in my presence and you want to kill yourself.”

“Hmm. I can’t argue with that.”

That emboldens Dean. “Good. Well… imagine Cass sticking with me. He’ll get… get bored and he’ll – die, most likely. I mean, we die almost annually.”

“But he’d be happy. You can’t fool me… not when I peered into his mind.” It grins. “Castiel will suffer.”

“And so will you.” Dean’s head snaps to Castiel. “There’s um… something I’ve found.”

“Oh. How amusing. You think a trinket will overpower me. God. The Darkness.” He laughs, “Ants compared to a being of my class. Nothing – and I mean nothing – on this earth can ever hurt me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Cass drawls, taking a few steps forward till he’s in the Shadow’s face. Dean wants to yank him back.

…

Castiel tries to control his breathing. He can’t show ambiguity – not now. He just hopes Dean will play along. He gives his fiercest stare and tilts his chin upward. “Oh I don’t want to hurt you.” he says menacingly. “In fact, my little trinket has nothing to do with you.”

He sees a crack in the Shadow’s aura. “You remember Lilith’s Crook?”

It laughs. “I do remember it being burnt to a crisp along with the boy of your child.”

Castiel flinches. “Did you know Michael had a companion… not quite a trumpet but a harp. Typically, it was used to call on deceased angels for a time for them to relay any information and messages. Angels haven’t died in so long, most people had forgotten about it. You remember it don’t you?”

The prune-y look on the entity’s face is all the answer he need.

“Michael’s back. And in Dean’s brother Adam. I’m sure they could be convinced to lend a hand.” Castiel presses his advantage, speaking loudly and unwaveringly. “I’m sure if someone screamed loud enough… I would cause a great awakening in your realm.”

It smiles. “Oh Castiel. You think you are doing so well aren’t you. You are actually blind enough… stupid enough to believe that you could be happy here. Wait till he dies.” His voice is haunting and Castiel imagines it. “You will want to follow him like a good dog. Oh, but I won’t let you. You’ll roam the earth for millennia, without your precious Dean. You’ll be alone till it drives you insane, till this little dalliance is nothing but a crazed hallucination. You will marinate… in the torment of your own making. And I shall savour every micro second.”

With that he ejects himself from Sam’s body. Dean rushes forward to his brother who waves him away.

Castiel had completed it flawlessly. The biggest bluff of his life.

Dean slaps his shoulder with more power than necessary and forces out a semblance of a laugh. “I need to teach you poker.”

…

Castiel lets Dean worry over Sam in peace. Though, that doesn’t stop him from sneaking into Dean’s room that night. He perches on the edge of his bed, wondering if Dean would mind. Do ‘I love you’s’ mean that you can watch you partner sleep? Castiel isn’t sure. He’d never loved anyone before. And certainly his love, platonic or otherwise, had never been returned before today.

“Cass?” Dean presses his palms against his eyes before flicking on the light. “What’s up man?”

“What the shadow said…”

Dean rests a hand over his. “Hey. I don’t expect it to be easy buddy. I never have. It’s never been black and white between us. We fight, we betray and we keep secrets. But I’ve never stopped loving you. And you haven’t stopped either.”

“You’ll die.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice grows quiet. “But I’ve been thinking. Heaven’s low on angel power right? What if – what if you convince them to take me and Sam when we die and in exchange… you come with?”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “Dean…”

Scoffing, Dean cuts him off. “I know. I know. It’s a big ask… to be stuck with us forever. You don’t have to. And I won’t hate you if you don’t want to… but … I was just -”

Castiel leans in, pressing a kiss against his lips, muffling whatever came next. “I’ve always wanted to shut you up like this.”

He feels Dean smile.

“And, of course I want to Dean. But I have no idea whether the angels will agree.”

“One step at a time then.” Dean squeezes his hand. “We got something new and shiny here. Let’s just forget about that crap. Forget the Empty and what he said. I swear, it won’t be true.”

He knows that, realistically, Dean can’t promise that. Yet, Castiel finds himself relaxing… leaning into Dean’s touch. “I never want to leave you.”

“Same here Cass.”

Happiness.

Castiel wants to berate himself for forgetting the Empty and falling into his trap… but how can he, when everything turned out alright? Here, in Dean’s bed, listening to Dean’s breathing as he sleeps peacefully, Castiel feels blissful. He doesn’t believe what Dean or the Empty said about becoming bored and hating human existence. The first time around had been horrible, but that he knows Dean loves him, he can handle anything the universe throws at him.

Turning on his side, he stares at Dean, enjoying the new angle… the light on his face and the gentleness of his expression. A small smile curves his lips and he snuggles deeper into Dean’s warmth.

He knows that Dean is going to be up in less than an hour to begin preparing the turkey and ham and Castiel wants nothing more than to help him.

But first… he needs to visit Sam and find out if he’s well enough to search for a spell.

…

For the first time in his life, when Dean cracks his eyes open, he doesn’t immediately wish for a bottle of whiskey. Cass is by his side, blinking owlishly at him. Dean can’t help but stick his tongue out to poke Cass’ nose. The angel yanks back at the wetness.

“Come on Dean. Let’s bake the ham.”

Dean stumbles as Cass drags him from bed. Though Dean slept like a baby, the emotional duress from yesterday has him exhausted.

“Cass.” He whines, letting himself get tugged into the kitchen.

Dean blinks once… twice… at the empty tray.

“You ate it?” he demands. No one eats his ham.

“Do you um… remember a promise you made?”

“To never eat your Christmas ham.” Dean bites back.

Cass chuckles. “No Dean. It’s about singing.”

“Yeah, Dean.” Stressing the ‘e’, Sam pops his head in.

“I’ll sing for you when pigs fly.”

Cass makes a sweeping gesture. “Ta da.”

Dean glances up. Sure enough, there’s his partially defrosted pig, floating around like a space rock.

“Damn it Cass.”

“The pig is flying.” Sam announces as though it isn’t obvious.

“Sammy.” He grins, leave it to his idiot brother and his idiot… Cass, to do something like this. “You two are Bim and Bam.”

“It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.” Cass chirps, grinning smugly at him.

Dean groans. Now he’s fat… and a lady.

“The pig is dead.” He argues.

“So?” is Cass’ great rebuttal.

Fine. “I hope you can get my dinner down from there.”

“Sure thing Dean.” Sam nods, “Some singing might help speed it up though.”

“Grandma got run over by a reindeer!” Dean belts out the line, only to be interrupted by Cass’ horrified shriek.

“Dean!”

“Tough crowd.” He mutters, glancing to a positively radiant Cass. He’s still beaming at Dean and looking on expectantly. Dean remembers how nice it had been, hearing Cass’ praise in this very kitchen. Singing… it isn’t something he shares, but with Sam and Cass… maybe. Pressing a swift kiss to Cass’ lips Dean sings another song, one that he’s sure they’ll like: “On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a ham chilling on the ceiling…”

_ A _ _ND THEY LIVED \- - HAPPILY_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long haul but I've enjoyed this book immensely. Thank you, my readers, for all the support and eagerness when it comes to updates. I really like how this one ended and I hope you did to.
> 
> Couldn't do it without you!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hola Mishamigos (can't believe that one didn't catch on)  
Let me know if you enjoyed this and anything you'd like to see as we go forward :)
> 
> I'm aiming for 12 chapters and the fic should be complete my Christmas.
> 
> Hope you stick around for the ride.
> 
> Ta ta for now.


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